So, I have lots of girlfriends who have come over to
I remember when I was first packing to leave for
I do understand leaving the country and forgetting to pack things but really the odd number of girls here who are desperate for a mechanical stimulation is really surprising. Me, trying to be consoling shared some Susie Bright wisdom and recommended some handy, cheap, and easily available produce. And while this is certainly an option it is difficult to overcome those taboos of horti-phila and truly let oneself go with a banana. I understand this which is why I volunteered yet again to head to the local Korean love shop and pick up something for the less fortunate.
I've been to sex shops in
For this particular sex shop visit I decided to hit a couple that are close to where I live, having not been in yet. These are fairly easy to get to and almost even discreet and since they were on the way to the party I was headed towards anyway I figured what the hell. I got all dressed up and set out for a nice walk and a few blocks later found myself in front of one of the two shops. This one was closed so I head to cross the street for the second. Checking the door showed me that it was in fact open so I pushed the door and headed in.
Inside it was tiny. Like walk in closet tiny. There was no sales person present but a set of stairs lead up and I figured the perverted purveyor was reposing somewhere out of sight. I started to look around trying to keep in mind the friends needs and what she might even remotely be interest in.
Okay, so aside from the fact that this sex shop had no salesperson there to assist and was really tiny there was something else that was a little unusual about it. It was ancient. Like circa 1970's
After the initial shock of the age of the toys wore off I was able to seriously look at the functional more modern selection (maybe early to mid 90's) and find something that looked like it might be reasonable for my friend. I had asked prior to coming for a price range that could not be breached and was given the maximum goal of 30 thousand. With that in mind I made a mental note of which four toys I would price and called out a "yogio" to get the store manger to come running.
Alas, there was no store manager. Okay, I went to the stairs. The stairs ended in the ceiling. Right. No upstairs. Okay. I checked the glass cabinets. All open, not locked. I reached in and grabbed the number one toy that I was sure would do the trick and looked for a price. Nothing but a "1680" which is possibly the year in which this toy was constructed. Okay, I looked around some more and at that point had the epiphany. No where, and I mean but no where in the states could one walk around a store that sold this much filth and expect not to be monitored either on camera, by the NSA, or at least by a tattoo covered shop manager checking your ID. And certainly in few of these instances would the shop be not only unmanned but everything unlocked. It was just a little freaky. I could slip that dildo into my bag and walk out a humming on my way and in
I looked around a bit more and then I found a phone number. Cell phone, right. I called the number and got a gruff "Yoboseyo?" Hello. I said back. I'm in the shop. Shop. Here, shop. The befuddled Korean on the other end said hello again, and I kept saying shop. Finally I figured "Love bong" (love room) and he said "Oh. Okay, okay." and promptly hung up which I can only hope meant he was on his way down.
Sure enough about four seconds later I hear the sweet sounds of motorbike and in walks a clean cut friendly Korean who sees me and lights up from ear to ear. Single, lone, foreign woman surrounded by dildos. How many wet dreams am I satisfying at the moment? I have no idea.
I point to the toy I don't want and ask how much. He says 45 thousand. I expected this. 45 thousand is roughly equivalent to about 45 bucks American, and there is no way in hell I'm paying $45 for a dildo that was once used by Catherine the great. Well no, if it could be shone it had been used by Catherine I might be willing to part with that much, but really you get the idea. I complain no and ask for something cheaper, still with the toy I want in mind but not yet pointing that one out. I know I'm going to have to bargain to get the sex toy I want. This is because in
I ask for something cheaper and he points to a couple of dime store bullet vibes encased in blue plastic. I think those might be at least 1985, but I'm not sure. These are $25 he tells me. Yeah, right, I think, and that original John Huge you got back there is at least $125. I say it's too much and I want a dildo. Oh, dildo, he smiles knowingly and looks me up and down. A dildo, sure he takes my hand and since I'm trying to bargain I don't punch him and let him pull me the two inches to the overpriced rabbit vibes and try to convince me that this is what I want. The boxes are so encrusted with dust you can't even tell what brand o'rabbit they are. I ask him how much and it's a number not worth quoting since even Dr. Ruth doesn't charge that much for her trademark toys.
I drag him back the four and a half steps in the increasingly hot and humid sex shop and point to the toy I want for my friend. How much, I ask. $40 he says. We have made progress; he knows I'm not looking for over forty. I say I'll give him twenty five. He laughs and flashes his teeth at me. I smile and say come on, twenty five. No, he says I can't do it. Right, I think, because obviously this stuff is flying off the shelves. He shakes his head. Forty he says again. I open my wallet and pull out three crispy tens and say $30. He says okay and wraps up the toy for me. As he is wrapping he asks me where I'm from. I say I'm an American. "Oh, yes," he says, "I see lots of American women here." I bet boy-howdy he must.
I thank him politely for the toy and prepare to walk out put he stops me with a hand on the shoulder and puts a Chinese herb drink in my hand. Mushroom juice, for your libido, I smile and thank him and head of the store thinking my libido hardly needs any more juice.
I walk a little further before I hit a cab to head for the party and think about the experience. It makes me miss the seedy dens if inequity that I used to frequent in Kenosha, the wall to wall porn warehouses, the carding, the dirty looks, the smell of unwashed sex, body odor, and latex that filled the stores that made you feel like a sleaze or the bright garish lights, pink feather boas and pounding club music of the places run by your friendly neighborhood transvestite who would talk endlessly with you about which color of dildo is most satisfying. Someday maybe